


Prometheus

by milka121



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bad End, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121
Summary: Dying shouldn’t hurt as much.Lio knew he should be dead; Kray fired up his machine and his body was pulled apart, tendon by tendon, burnt to ashes and consumed for the universe to feast on them. So why does it hurt so much?Or, the bad end AU in which Kray leaves the Earth, but keeps Lio alive.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 13
Kudos: 122





	Prometheus

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to [my wife ](https://king-erzsebet.tumblr.com/)and [my beta](https://feyria.tumblr.com/)

Dying shouldn’t hurt as much.

Lio knew he should be dead; Kray fired up his machine and his body was pulled apart, tendon by tendon, burnt to ashes and consumed for the universe to feast on them. So why does it hurt so much?

He feels something press to his face and _oh_ , it was warm, warmth seeping through his lips, and the Promare in his body eats it up greedily, eager to burn, to live. He whines when the warmth disappears, but it is enough for him to take a breath, for his lungs to start working, his heart to pump the blood through his veins again. 

And then it starts to hurt in the earnest. 

He gasps, a gurgle in the back of his throat, and his eyes fly open. He sees white, and for a second he wonders if he’s not really dead, because there’s no way such a pristine room could exist. 

Then he sees the person in front of him and wishes he was dead.

“Kray.” Lio spits it out, his face twisting in a frown - but the pull of the skin is too much, like it could break at any second, and his muscles give up. 

Kray watches with a hint of the smile in the corner of his lips. “So you decided to live, Mr. Fotia.”

Lio takes a breath to bark back, and then it comes back to him, his brain no longer taking mercy on him and holding the memories back.

The screams of his people. The smell of ash and burning flesh and hair. The pain, the feeling of being pulled apart, tendon by tendon, eaten up, and the knowledge that _no one is going to help, it’s over, they lost, they are dying._

And yet, despite everything, he’s here, in this sterile room, with Kray in front of him with that fucking smile plastered to the mask of his face. And _he can’t hear them, their Promare are silent, why are they silent, why is it only Kray that he can hear?!_

No. No, no, no; it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be, they couldn’t all be gone, not Meis, not Gueira, because if Kray wanted to kill them all, why would he let Lio live? Why would he-

He gags as he realises.

Kray’s smile widens just a bit. “Oh?”

“Why did you-” Lio knows _how,_ but the question is _why,_ why would Kray give him a chance to live, for his Promare to recover? 

Kray only keeps smiling in response. 

Lio has to run, he has to _move_ , but his body doesn’t listen to him; he is connected to the machine still, and Kray seemingly has given him only so much to keep him away from death. Not enough for Lio to recover his limbs. 

But he will. He will. His Promare is strong, _he_ is strong, and-

“I’m going to kill you,” Lio snarls. 

Kray tilts his head to his side. “Bold words. But I would refrain from them if I were you.”

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. “You can’t stop me.”

“Maybe.” The smile is carved onto Kray’s muscles, plastered like a new paint covering old mistakes. “But then, I will not hesitate with others.”

Others? “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” Kray repeats. He steps closer and leans in, his massive body towering over Lio, and Lio is _not intimidated, he doesn’t feel small, he’s the hope of all Burnish-_

“But tell me,” Kray whispers, his dead eyes staring into Lio’s, “are you prepared to take that risk?”

Lio spits in his face.

Kray grabs Lio’s hair and _pulls_ , and all of Lio’s skin screams in a protest as the tubes and wires are torn out of his body all at once, and he falls forward, onto the floor. His arms fly forward, but it’s _not enough_ and _it hurts_ and he lands face-first. 

The blow that comes next is agonizing and Lio can only cry out and try to move, crawl, and it tears at his flesh, he can’t move, he can’t _breathe._

He is yanked up by his hair. “I could have left you to rot on Earth. I could have let you die with honor, as a symbol of the new humanity. But do not mistake that for mercy.”

Lio’s body crumbles, but he forces himself to smirk. “I would not dare to.”

“Good.” Kray lets go, and Lio can’t support his head enough to stop it from falling into the cold floor again. “You are not allowed to die yet.”

Lio tenses what’s left of his muscles and somehow, against every nerve yelling at him to stop, manages to roll on his back. He looks Kray in his face, and at least Kray’s smile is gone now, the scowl of his true self finally showing its ugly head.

But as soon as Lio thinks that, Kray regains his composure. “Pity it can’t be said of the poor, poor Galo Thymos.”

And the world crumbles, shatters, breaks, and Galo was left alone on Earth, on the mercy on what was left after the Promare cry out with their hot tears of magma, and Lio can’t stop it, not when he’s barely able to crawl under Kray’s feet.

And after Kray leaves, he screams.

* * *

A universe away, Galo hears him.

“Lio!”

He coughs; there’s dust and debris, and Lio is there, somewhere, he has to be, because Galo is going to save him, he promised, he had to-

“Galo!” Someone yanks him back and he almost falls. His legs are shaking too much; he didn’t notice it until now, he did not need to, because it isn’t about him, and Lio is somewhere there, and-

Galo’s head flies back at the impact. He blinks, and needs a second to realise that Aina punched him. Her face is scrunched up and she pants heavily, her fist still close to Galo’s face. 

“Get yourself together!” 

“But…” He turns around, looking at the place where the ship was, where Lio was, and _it’s gone_.

“It’s over.” Aina’s voice trembles, and her hands do, too. “They are gone.”

“It’s over,” Galo repeats, but the words don’t taste right in his mouth. They don’t make sense together, a mistake somewhere on the tip of his tongue.

Aina sobs. 

Galo looks at the sky, but it isn’t lit up anymore; one would think that tearing the universe apart should leave a scar in the world, but it didn’t, and the darkness offers no answers as Galo looks at it.

He smells ash, and it falls from the sky like snow, covering everything, tangling with the air and Galo's hair.

Something flickers in of the corner of his eye. He looks down at the source and sees a small flame dancing in the palm of his hand. 

And it’s warm, warm, warm.

“Lio.” He stares at it. It flickers ever so slightly, and Galo wants it to be a response, wants it to _mean_ something - and it does, because if Lio’s fire is alive, so is he.

Even if all that’s left is a small flame not bigger than a lighter’s, curled inside the palm of Galo’s hand.

Galo’s legs give out under him. Ash swirls around him as his knees hit the ground, but even so, even when he is aware of what it all means, he can’t care less, because _Lio, Lio’s alive, Lio, Lio._

His hands shake as he carefully cradles the flame to his chest.

The earth beneath him growls and shakes, Aina sobs, the world is ending, and the sky is peppered with stars.

And Lio is there, somewhere. He has to be. 

The flame moves against his skin. And he stands up.

He pats Aina’s head as he walks by. “Come on. We have a world to save.”

She looks at him in disbelief and he grins.

* * *

Heris avoids Galo’s eyes. He has never met her before, but in that way, she was reminding him of Aina - she, too, has the tendency to avoid her gaze whenever she had to be the one to tell him something he won’t like. 

“Mr. Thymos…”

“Galo,” he cuts in. “Galo is enough.”

She fixes her glasses. “Galo,” she agrees. “You must understand… What you’re asking for… We tried to find a way to avoid the unavoidable, but leaving the planet really is the only reliable way we found.”

“There has to be something you haven’t tried yet. If we just find it-”

A fist hits the table with enough force for Galo to jump in place.

“You think we wanted this?” Heris finally raises her gaze, and the fire in them freezes him in place. “We tried everything we possibly could. But we _had_ _to_ move, and that means using the engine, even if it meant sacrificing people.”

Galo licks his lips. “But-”

“It was not a choice. And it isn’t now. Maybe we could have found another solution if we had more time, but now we don’t even have that.” Heris hands shake, curled into fists. “It doesn’t work. Nothing worked but the ship, and now it’s god knows where, and it’s your fault that Aina-”

A hand falls on her shoulder. Aina’s face is still wet, but one shake of her head is enough for Heris’s expression to soften, even if only slightly.

“We tried,” Heris says. “We did. But there’s nothing to be done anymore.”

“There has to be.” Galo’s voice doesn’t waver. “We have to fight. Lio is still fighting.”

The fire in Heris’s eyes has died down, leaving only warm embers behind. “I’m sorry. But please, don’t ask me to trade the last moment I can have with my family for searching for something that doesn’t exist.”

“So you’re just going to give up? Just like this?” Galo looks at Aina, and she, too, avoids his eyes. “You are not even going to try?”

“Heris.” Aina’s grasp tightens on Heris’s arm. “I will be here. So…”

She beams, the traces of tears glistening on her face. And it’s not hope, not yet, but it’s _something_ , and they need it.

The fire enclosing Galo’s skin crackles.

* * *

_Hey, Lio. Can you hear it?_

_I’m coming._

* * *

_Hey, Galo. Can you hear me?_

_I’m waiting._

* * *

Time stops existing.

Maybe it’s because of whatever was flowing into him through all the tubes attached to his flesh. Maybe it’s because of his body finally giving up on him. Maybe it’s something else entirely. Lio can’t be sure.

What he can be sure of is the pain.

In all the official, government-approved transmissions that Lio watched Kray has always said he resents violence, that he puts people first and foremost. Lio knows he told the scientists under him that this is a last resort, that some people must be sacrificed to save many, that he does not take pleasure in seeing Burnish suffer.

But there’s no logical reason for Kray to strap down Lio to the operating table. There’s no reason to strap down what’s left of his limbs down and cut his stomach open.

There’s no reason to attach hooks to the edge of the cut and _pull_.

Lio can see his insides moving.

“Oh?” Kray looks with interest at the exposed stomach cavity. “It seems the sample has regrown already. What an impressive regeneration ability. The previous subject rarely survived, let alone recovered.”

Lio tried to bite off his tongue earlier, when it was still too much, but Kray had simply put a gag in his mouth and continued. Now, Lio discovers something new: after a certain threshold of pain, the body seemed to simply give up. The feeling is still here, but it’s dull, subdued, and he might get used to it, slowly but surely.

He still isn’t prepared for when Kray reaches down with a scalpel, his latex gloves painted red. “Let’s try something new, then… A heart?” The scalpel is dripping, too; why bother to disinfect it, when he can just bring Lio back again and again, with his Promare too strong to simply stop when Lio begs for it too reject Kray’s flame?

“No,” Kray’s hand moves, “the liver.”

He puts both his hands inside Lio, and Lio wishes his body would just let him pass out, just for a second, just to _not feel how Kray’s fingers prod at his exposed flesh, how every nerve, every tendon screams at him that it’s wrong, that he’s dying, that he can’t take this, please just let it end, please, please-_

“You know,” Kray says, his hands under Lio’s ribs, “there are so many things we still don't know about Promare. How do they infect the host? What exact conditions of the symbiosis are? Mr. Fotia, you should be proud of yourself. Your contribution will lead humanity into the new age of prosperity. We have conquered the stars, and now we can even conquer death.”

Lio has never believed in gods, not in the cruel world he has seen, but now he doesn’t care anymore. Nothing is true, other than pain, Kray’s smile, and finally - a still twitching liver in Kray’s hand.

But still, he hopes, begs for someone, anyone to hear him, to witness. Because there is no one in this new world of Kray Foresight that would bear witness to Lio’s fate, not even Kray himself, since Lio is nothing more than a technicality, a means to the end that Kray chose.

And so, Lio prays.

* * *

The world doesn’t end instantaneously. Not many are granted such mercy. The fate of the Earth is to die slowly, gradually, too quick and too slow.

It’s enough for Galo to let himself sleep. It’s enough for him to hear.

The flame in his hand screams, and so does Galo as he watches.

* * *

The circles under his eyes must be betraying him, because Aina looks at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Galo says machinally, and Aina doesn’t look convinced. “I just- Are Promare alive?”

Aina blinks. “I… How would I know? I’m not really a person you should be asking this.”

“I know, but…” But Heris is busy, trying to stop the unstoppable. And the people might not know, not yet, but the end is here, knocking at the door. “I don’t know.”

He stares at the flame on his skin. It changes the place it settles on sometimes, but it mostly stays still, anchored to his arm. 

It whispers, and Galo feels it more than hears the words. And even just feeling is overwhelming. 

It’s worse, infinitely worse, and-

“I mean,” Galo says, “what if people can share their Promare? Like, I don’t know, uh- It’s just, I’ve been hearing this, uh, voice? Well, not a voice, but-”

Aina’s tired expression softens slightly. “Galo, you are tired.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not because of that! It’s Lio, I know it’s him, and he gave me some of his fire, so-”

Aina doesn’t even as much as glance at the flame dancing on Galo’s skin. “You don’t know that. I know it’s hard for you, but… But all the others… Galo, you know the chances-”

“No! It _is_ him, and I’m not going to give up-”

“It’s not giving up,” she cuts him off. “It’s just acceptance. There’s a difference.”

“If you do nothing, then it’s all the same.”

She stares at him, hard. “Even if he’s still alive, he’s god knows where. And he will not be able to help us.”

“I don’t want _him_ to help us, we need to help him!” His voice raises and cracks, and Aina’s eyes widen with surprise. To be honest, it surprises him, too; the intensity of the heat he feels, the still-fresh pain covering his skin, the _need_ to move, to change, to be complete.

Aina gasps, and Galo sees the flames encircling him.

And he hears.

* * *

Somehow, she scares him more than Kray does.

Well, maybe that’s not correct: more like he got used to Kray being this constant terrifying presence. But Biar was something new, an unknown factor that Lio could not read.

Her blank face is both too much and too lacking. She doesn’t even flinch when Kray’s mask slips, she doesn’t react whenever he does _things_ to Lio that would make him scream if he had any strength to fight back. She is cold, pristine, and her clear-cut dark costume contrasts the white of the room.

Are all people here like this? Empty, uncaring, accepting with indifference whatever Kray does? Can a society even function like this?

Is this really all what is left? 

Biar looks, but doesn’t see as Kray dissects Lio’s eyeball. 

Lio’s head is swimming. He must have lost a lot of blood already, and some part of him hopes that he will die like this, quietly turning into ash before Biar’s gaze, and maybe that would force some reaction out of her. Probably not. 

It must have been hours, if not days, since Kray started; Lio’s eyes are full of tears, still, even the one pulled open by the eyelid retractor and cut open. It stings, and Lio still can see through it, even if he hopes he didn’t.

Kray pushes the blade further, and Lio sees stars exploding in red. He gasps.

“Oh?” Kray smiles, content, and Lio knows he likes the sounds Lio makes when he’s like this. He doesn’t wear a gag anymore; he doesn’t need to. Not when Kray has pulled Lio’s tongue out himself. “Mr. Fotia, are you still with us?”

Lio doesn’t reply. He won’t. This is his last stand, this soundless rebelion, because even if he can’t fight back, it is better than to submit and obey. He would rather die than become the husk of a person that is Biar, that is probably everyone on this cursed ship. Kray is like a child, desperate for attention and recognition, not tolerating any expression of free will going against his own desires. 

Unlike a child, he doesn’t get bored with his toys. And Lio seems to be his favourite.

Kray hums. “I believe I asked you a question.” The nails of his free hand circle just under Lio’s lower eyelid. “We can’t risk losing such an important subject, now, can we?”

 _Go fuck yourself_ , Lio thinks. 

Kray pushes his finger into the twitching tissue. 

“Maybe we could try something new,” Kray says. “I’ve been wondering for a while what an eye myiasis would look like with Burnish. Would the Promare accept another parasite, or would it fight for the host? How much would it allow the infection to spread?”

The light in Lio’s eye flickers and dies. Something wet leaks out on Lio’s cheeks and drips into his half-open mouth. It’s salty and slimy, and the world around him fizzles.

“Oh, my.” Lio can barely register the touch anymore. “So delicate.”

And there is heat, something presses against him, passes through his lips, and _no, no,_ he begs for someone, anyone, and it feels wrong, the heat that is not his own forcibly entering him, the hazy cloud clearing.

For just a fraction of a second, he feels his Promare purr in delight. He feels Kray’s own respond, pleased.

And then he wails.

* * *

Heris doesn’t seem to notice when they come in. She does notice when some of the papers on her desk burst into flames when Galo leans in just a bit too close, trying to get her attention.

“What…” Heris’s voice drifts off as she sizes up Galo. Galo doesn’t really mind. He would probably do that too, if he could. But it was kind of hard when he was the one covered head to toe with flames.

“You’re a Burnish?” 

“I don’t think so, no,” Galo replies. “I mean, it’s not like the flames are mine.”

“Right. Lio.” Her eyes study him, still. They are dark, focused with the intensity he has never seen before - but probably the situation calls for desperate measures. Did Heris even sleep at all since he asked for her help? Did she have time to think about anything else?

“The magma…” Heris murmurs, as if to herself. “I don’t know. By all means, it should already…” She bites her lip. “But it didn’t. I know that normal laws don’t apply, not when all the activity is caused by Promare, but… It shouldn’t be taking this long. The Promare react strongly to the pain of their own, that’s the law on which the warp engine was based on, but somehow…”

“I know.” The words escape his throat, thoughtlessly, effortlessly, and when Heris looks at him with a question in her eyes, he doesn’t have answers. It just feels… right. And he _knows_.

Because underneath his feet the magma screams and talks and searches; it writhes in anguish, needs to lash out in retaliation at someone, anyone, but it’s incomplete, why is it incomplete, where is the rest, why are we somewhere else, what’s going on?

And there is sadness, so much that he only realises he’s crying when tears sizzle on his skin.

“Oh,” he says. “I understand.”

The calling. The pain. The longing. Images from the world before, the world after, the world present. It all enraptures him, traps him, and frees him at the same time; he is them, and they are him. 

He takes a deep breath, _they_ do, and-

“Galo!” Aina’s scream bring him back; the connection snaps like a string, and when he breathes again, it’s only him.

And then the light in his eyes flickers like a dying flame, and he isn’t. Because there’s _Lio_ , there’s the _feeling_ , there’s Kray’s voice and heat and Briar looking, and _please, please, please._

* * *

And the Promare hum, whisper, and ask.

Galo replies in a shaky voice. He says without words, sees without eyes, and feels without skin. He tells of longing, of desperation, and of the warmth in his chest reigniting whenever he thinks of Lio.

The Promare murmur and sing and croon. And they reach. 

They have travelled through the folds of time and space, they sing, they have seen everything, felt everything, know everything. Their song is a part of everything, now, of everything that chose to listen.

And across the world, across the unimaginable, a whisper joins the song, and Galo knows. He would know that voice anywhere.

Their cries mix, and Galo doesn’t know where he ends and Lio begins, because they are one, even when they aren’t, and maybe, maybe if he just reached out-

So he does. And Lio reaches back.

* * *

Promare have found this world, despite everything, despite the odds being near impossible. But there is a small room for error every time, defying every logic, an entanglement so intricate one can’t see anything but chaos, yet a masterpiece all the same. 

They are just a part of the equation, a small variable that barely changes anything. But they are intertwined all the same, and there can’t be one without another.

Promare have bent the world, before. 

And when Galo and Lio ask, they do it again.

* * *

And this time, when almost all is lost, Galo reaches out, and Lio is there.

**Author's Note:**

> I... honestly don't know if I should continue this fic or not. I simply had the idea and ran with it, and now... I'm not sure.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed, as short as it is, and please let me know in the comments if you did. Also if you want me to continue with this AU.


End file.
